


London Fashion Week

by Genoa_Lexia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Model Zayn, One Direction has three members
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:56:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genoa_Lexia/pseuds/Genoa_Lexia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a Wednesday when Harry was called into Simon's office to discuss 'The July Fiasco', truth be told he was surprised to hear that he had caused a fiasco - he would probably have described it as merely a debacle. Fiasco did sound cooler though. While he was mulling over the phonetic advantages of the word fiasco, he managed to completely miss whatever it was that had caused his bandmates' matching looks of shock. Niall rather resembled a stunned mullet.</p>
<p>Harry quickly schooled his features into an appropriately alarmed look (green eyes widened and mouth fallen open slightly) and hoped that he could glean what had actually happened before having to react any more than this.</p>
<p>"What?" Liam said, good old Liam. Simon sighed exasperatedly.</p>
<p>"I said, I have arranged, in light of The July Fiasco, for someone to act as Harry's boyfriend in order to, I hope, counter-act all the bad press" And, oh. That would explain the stunned mullet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Harry Styles had a good feeling about this summer. The band hadn't had a proper break in far too long and now he had two months to do what (and who) ever he wanted. Not that he didn't love the boys, of course he did - Niall and Liam had been his two best friends ever since they were called back at the end if Boot Camp and asked to form a group. However, neither of them ever really wanted to go out clubbing with him - Liam had been dating Danielle since the dawn of time, practically, and Niall would never go somewhere without a dessert menu, even if there was half-price alcohol, not to mention the fact that "I can't miss Watchtower Harry - it's the best show ever!" Watchtower was a programme which Harry avidly did not watch and was, from what he could gather, basically a rip off of Smallville.

It was for this reason (because he could not go out with Niall or Liam, not because Watchtower was ripping off Smallville) that Harry he decided he would spend his glorious two months of freedom by attempting to visit every single club in greater London. He'd even made a list and drawn little boxes next to the name of each place so that he could tick them off once he's been. He'd been called many things in his nineteen years (and five months) of life but disorganised was not one of them.

Today was the first day of his challenge and, after holding a rather dramatic ceremony in which he pulled a piece of paper out of a beanie in order to make a decision as to which club he would be visiting first, it had been decided that he would go to Sahara. 

Sahara was a new place that had opened in St. Johns Wood, only a few minutes drive from where Harry lived in Primrose Hill, and was known for attracting a plethora of young, successful and attractive people every night. Perfect for Harry. As much as he loved his job (if you could even really call it that) it would be great to finally be able to go out, relax, get drunk and maybe take home a nice girl (or guy) for the night.

*****************************************************************************************************************************

At eight o'clock, Harry left the house wearing his tightest skinny jeans, a white top and a navy blazer. He took his least conspicuous car (what was the point in being in the world's most successful boyband if you couldn't splurge on a few cars?) and parked a road over from Sahara. The singer waived the queue and gave the bartender a dimpled smile, asking for the strongest they had. After declining a glass of what looked suspiciously like absinthe (Harry would quite like to keep both of his ears, thank you very much), he downed a dubious looking blue drink and felt it burn its way down his throat.

He stumbled his way to the bright flashing lights and danced by himself, knowing he would be noticed soon enough. There was a trance song playing with a floor-poundingly heavy bass. Harry liked it. He hoped he would be able to remember enough of the lyrics to Google in the morning so that he could buy it.

Three hours and four ugly/straight/in a relationship men later and Harry was on the dancefloor with a nice-looking man with brown hair and was maybe two or three years older than Harry.

The night ended exactly as one might predict and Harry was woken the next morning by the sound of his front door closing as the man (Josh?) made his exit.

*****************************************************************************************************************************

The next four weeks continued in much the same way - go out to a new club, find a stranger, take them home, wake up to the sound of them leaving in the morning, spend the day sleeping off the hangover and repeat. This meant that he hadn't really had much contact with the rest of the world since the end of June - he'd stopped bringing his phone with him when he went out to avoid people trying to put their numbers in it. 

It was for this reason that, understandably, it was something of a shock for him to, on the 1st August, receive a visit from an irate Liam ordering him to get in the car and come into work immediately. It was also completely understandable for him to throw something of a fit in an attempt to avoid being kidnapped by his bandmate and ex-best friend. Liam, however, found neither of these things understandable. Hence, ex-best friend. He didn't seem to appreciate Harry sharing this with him either - "I don't care! How the hell can you have possibly been completely unaware of The July Fiasco, it has been all over the papers!" After Harry's confused look the journey was completed in a somewhat awkward silence.

It was a Wednesday when Harry was called into Simon's office to discuss 'The July Fiasco', truth be told he was surprised to hear that he had caused a fiasco - he would probably have described it as merely a debacle. Fiasco did sound cooler though. While he was mulling over the phonetic advantages of the word fiasco, he managed to completely miss whatever it was that had caused his bandmates' matching looks of shock. Niall rather resembled a stunned mullet.

Harry quickly schooled his features into an appropriately alarmed look (green eyes widened and mouth fallen open slightly) and hoped that he could glean what had actually happened before having to react any more than this.

"What?" Liam said, good old Liam. Simon sighed exasperatedly.

"I said, I have arranged, in light of The July Fiasco, for someone to act as Harry's boyfriend in order to, I hope, counter-act all the bad press" And, oh. That would explain the stunned mullet.

"What the hell?!" Niall shouted in a way that was as threatening as it is for Niall to be (that is, not at all). "You can't do that!" Simon sighed again.

"Yes, I can, though this wasn't entirely my decision - the board rather blindsided me into it. However I have done my best to find someone that you will, at the very least, be able to engage in civility with" Simon said, directing the last part to Harry.

"Well who is it then?"

"I do not actually know precisely who it is but he is a friend of your friend Cara," The eldest man replied.

"Delevigne?" Liam checked, receiving a nod in return. Cara Delevigne. Good. She was a (super)model, meaning that she moved in circles which contained only really attractive people. Harry was happy - if he had to fake-date anyone at least they would be fit and, most-likely, a model. Then he remembered that cutting his summer in half meant he would not have time to complete his list of Greater London pubs. Suddenly he wasn't so happy anymore.


	2. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another five minutes the door clicked open and in walked a man with light brown, pine coloured hair in a messy quiff and a pair of ridiculously blue eyes (that were oddly familiar). He was wearing very, very, tight, red jeans, a striped top and a small smile. He was a few inches shorter than Harry and- Wait.
> 
> "Aren't models meant to be tall?" And stupid Harry. Stupid Harry. Great he's already messed up the whole 'be nice to the guy' thing - two minutes and I've managed to insult both his height and his profession. Well done, this is great. Just great.

"Let's make pizza!"

"We can't make pizza, we don't own any of the utensils required to make pizza. Why don't we just order it?"

"Okay, where's the patented pizza ordering device?"

"...The phone?"

"Well now you've gone and ruined it" Niall grumbled.

Harry quickly feigned a quite random interest in the subject of an ad on the TV (Kate Moss' lipstick range) and hoped he wouldn't be called in to mediate the disagreement. That was, after all, Liam's job. Harry wasn't quite sure how that worked when he was actually involved in the fight but... Oh, well. Harry wasn't really that interested either.

While his two bandmates continued to witter on, Harry took the opportunity to check Twitter. He replied to a few of the fans and then checked what was trending worldwide.

Man United  
#followmeed  
Manchester  
Watchtower  
Chelsea  
Sheerio  
Taylor squared  
Taylor Swift  
#tomyfuturepartner  
Taylor Lautner

Harry grumbled at the first one - the boys had planned to come here (Harry's house) to watch the match and drink beer and shout at the referee through the telly and such the like. But then Niall threw a tantrum because "Watchtower's on tonight! It's the second last episode before the penultimate one in the series - I can't miss it!" and, because Liam and Harry were too busy being in shock about the fact that Niall used the word 'penultimate' in a real sentence, he managed to change the channel and do something snazzy with the control so that it was locked until the end of the programme. And of course bloody Watchtower was the fourth trending topic.

Harry was annoyed, he had planned to celebrate his last night of 'freedom' - he was meeting that friend of Cara's tomorrow - by _watching the bloody football match!_   Instead he had an hour of zoning out, catching only a few glimpses of Superman's ridiculously blue eyes, and eating pizza ahead of him, before the start of Niall's inevitable analysis of this week's episode.

****************************************************************************************************************************

Three hours later Harry's Irish friend had finally finished his analysis of this week's Watchtower (how can Niall spend 2 hours talking about a one hour programme?). Harry sincerely hoped there wasn't going to be some sort of quiz now. He didn't think he would be able to handle that.

"Are you nervous?" Liam inquired, jolting him out of his thoughts. He gave him a quizzical look. "About tomorrow, I mean - meeting your new..." The short-haired man trailed off, not quite sure what word to use for the person Harry was going to be having a fake relationship with.

"Do we even know if it's a bloke or a girl?" Niall's thick accent cut in.

"Bloke, I think - to reach out to the LGBT community or some other bull," Harry said aggravatedly. "And no, Liam, I'm not nervous - why should I be nervous? I get to spend how-ever-many-weeks snogging some fit model guy" Harry gave his two friends a sardonic smile. Liam gave him the look of a confused labrador.

"But...What if you don't get along with them? What if  _we_ don't get along with them? Or they turn out to be a weirdo or something?" Harry was tempted to knock over the coffee table or something just to distract Liam - once he got into full worry mode, he could go on for hours. Days even.

"D'you want a sandwich?" Was Niall's subtle (not to mention stunningly eloquent) attempt at a subject change. Liam just frowned until his look was elevated to 'bewildered retriever puppy'. Harry sighed.

"Look, it's Cara's friend - I doubt she would be friends with some complete git," Liam opened his mouth to interject. "But, if, for whatever reason, I don't get along with the guy then I can just pretend that I do, I'm actually quite a good actor." His last statement was met with matching looks of disbelief. Well then.

"Harry, no offence mate, but... Do you not remember iCarly?"

And, fine, if they thought he was a bad actor then who cared? Harry didn't. Definitely not. He was a wonderful actor. Every part of him was an amazing actor. Even his hair. Because his hair was actually straight; it was just acting like curly hair. And everyone was fooled by that, weren't they? So, ha. See if he cared. Because he didn't. Not at all.

"Are you alright mate, you look like you're about to cry?" Liam said gently, with his patented 'worried eyebrows'.

"I'm fine," Harry replied stiffly. "I'm  _acting._ " No one really believed him, but they didn't say anything.

****************************************************************************************************************************

The next day Harry was replaying Liam's concerns in his mind. Usually he discounted anything his sensible friend said as soon as he began to resemble a breed of dog with any form of bafflement. This time, though, he thought he might actually have a point. What if the two of them didn't get along? What the hell would he do then?

At that moment Harry made an active decision to try and be as nice to this boy as possible - he hoped that they could at the very least be almost-friends, especially after Simon's most recent bombshell that the two of them would have to 'date' for at least six months - long enough to be taken seriously but not long enough for people to get bored of it or for the fans to stop thinking they have a chance with him. Apparently.

He had less than an hour to go now and decided to check his outfit one last time before heading off to the meeting place. Dark skinny jeans, his favourite Ramones t-shirt and his brown, fur-lined boots. He took a deep breath, grabbed a leather jacket from the coat rack and left the house.

The traffic was miraculously clear for a Friday afternoon in London, even with Harry taking the scenic route along the river. He sang along to his favourite radio station as he wondered if he would ever come to know the name of that pink bridge by Battersea Power Station.

He arrived at One Direction's management's building early and, after giving the valet his keys, Harry found his way to the 'meeting room'. He'd known he was early but five minutes later he realised that he might actually be  _early_ like an-acceptable-time-for-Liam-Payne-to-arrive early. Although, five minutes, maybe he was just impatient.

After another five minutes the door clicked open and in walked a man with light brown, pine coloured hair in a messy quiff and a pair of ridiculously blue eyes (that were oddly familiar). He was wearing very,  _very,_ tight, red jeans, a striped top and a small smile. He was a few inches shorter than Harry and- Wait.

"Aren't models meant to be tall?" And stupid Harry.  _Stupid_ Harry. Great he's already messed up the whole 'be nice to the guy' thing - two minutes and I've managed to insult both his height  _and_ his profession. Well done, this is great. Just great.

Luckily, he just laughed. Thank God. It was a nice laugh, too. Good. That was a quality that was good to have in a fake boyfriend, Harry thought.

"I'm not a model," And, okay now Harry's confused.

"But you're Cara's friend?" Another laugh. Yep, definitely a good laugh.

"Cara's friend's ex actually," The man said, still laughing slightly. "Zayn Malik?" Harry vaguely recognised that name - he was the guy with the dark hair, eyes the colour of whiskey and the penchant for staring soulfully into the distance. Well, as soulfully as you can knowing that this poster (for Dior) was going to be stuck on the side of a bus.

"So, um, who are you?" Harry asked, as politely as he could. The man with the ridiculous eyes smiled and Harry was not transfixed by the way his whole face seemed to light up. Not at all.

"Louis Tomlinson, I'm an actor," Harry then proceeded to have a moment of confusion in which he thought this would prove to Niall and Liam that  _he_ was a good actor - as though actors only associated with their own. Or something. Then the man continued. "It's actually not often that I meet someone who doesn't recognise me - Watchtower's done a lot better than any of us expected," And, of course, he would be in that show that Harry has spent the last year and a half mocking mercilessly. Of course. He wondered if Niall would find this hilarious or just beg him to meet the entire cast. And, oh, great, he was going to have to introduce Niall to this one. They were going to have to  _hang out_ to make the whole fake-relationship thing look realistic. This would be hell.

And he's being stared at. Right, first rule of conversation - you actually have to reply to what someone's said, an internal monologue does not count as a response. 'Cause, y'know, it's internal. Harry could tell that the window of time that he had to formulate a response in order to not appear rude was rapidly closing so he hastened to make some kind of noise. It came out rather resembling that of a cat being stepped on. He shot Louis a charming smile, dimples and all. He returned the smile, albeit with a tinge of discomfort.

"Right," said Louis "do you want to sort out the first details - like, how we met and stuff now then?" Harry nodded, glad that this situation seemed to be going professionally.

"Okay, so how  _did_ we meet?" Harry said to his new 'boyfriend'. Pause.

"Well, were you planning to go to anything for Fashion Week **[A/N I have no idea when London Fashion Week is, but for the sake of the story let's say it's the beginning of August]** , like any of Cara's shows or anything? 'Cause I know that she's doing at least one that Zayn's in so we could like meet then and there'd be press and stuff to speculate about it or whatever," He said all of this very fast. 'Like Hermione Granger', Harry thought, and had to hold back a smile. Emma Watson had a nice smile too.

"Yeah, that sounds good. The DKNY show?" Harry suggested.

"Sure," and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it because I'm not sure if I'm going to complete this story :)
> 
> If you had, like, any favourite parts or anything then I'd like to hear them too :)


	3. El

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starring Taylor Swift as Chloe Sullivan and, oh - he'd slept with her. He'd kind of gone out with her actually. She was a lovely girl but he'd been going through a 'I think I'm actually gay as opposed to bi now' phase and so broke up with her after two months. Still she was nice. Wasn't she back with Twilight guy now? Harry wasn't exactly sure. Good for her if she was though (he was fit. Like, really fit).
> 
> Emily Ostilly as Cat Grant and, yep, Harry has slept with her too.
> 
> Hannah Walker as Stargirl - he'd slept with her as well. Harry wondered, not for the first time, if he should start a Chuck Bass-esque black book (yes he watched Gossip Girl and yes, he mourned the loss of the fantastic show - what of it?). Probably not - that would be awkward if the press got wind of it.

Harry felt his eyes slide shut again. Sleep. Oh, how he missed it. Suddenly a jolt of pain seared up his right arm.

"Wake up mate, we're almost there!" Niall's Irish lilt shouted at him, thick with excitement. Harry had already forgotten where they were going. Some kind of promo appearance - he lost track of these things. Opening his eyes slowly, the youngest member of One Direction tried to will some energy into his muscles. He didn't have a lot of success but was still mildly proud of himself for the effort. It was some-ridiculous-hour o'clock, after all.

"So, where are we going?" He asked, his tired voice coming out slower than usual.

"BBC Breakfast!" Niall sang. Harry glared at him, no one had any right to be that enthusiastic before the buses had even started running. An obnoxious chirping noise filled the car. Harry growled. (Then promptly felt rather proud of himself for emitting such a manly noise).

"What the hell was that?"

"I think it was your phone, mate," Liam's gentle voice answered, gesturing to the iPhone that was lodged under Harry's right foot. Harry grumbled and reached to retrieve it. 1 new message from a number he didn't recognise.

_Hi. This is Louis. Your management team gave me your number so we can 'get to know each other on a deeper level for an underlying air of believability upon the announcement of the relationship'. I wasn't going to bother to be honest but El said it would be rude not to so, yeah... I don't really have anything to say. I doubt you're even awake anyway but I have a scene that needs to be filmed at sunrise for no apparent reason, yay._

Harry's mind was working too slowly for him to formulate a response before their car came to a stop outside the BBC Television Centre. Harry noticed the tube station directly opposite the entrance and half-wished they could have travelled on the underground - just to see the reactions. He shoved his phone into the pocket of his trousers with an annoying amount of difficulty, considering the fact that these were probably his loosest jeans.

Half an hour of hair and make up (and various prodding) later, Harry, Niall and Liam were sitting on the red couch with Bill Harry-couldn't-remember-his-last-name and Susannah Reid.

"So, boys, obviously the album is due out next week. Your second album. Are there any secrets that you can share with us about it?" Susannah asked politely, obviously not quite sure how to address the three teenage boys.

"Well, I think that our sound has evolved quite a bit from the first album, when we were sort of just finding our feet and I think that it is a little more mature. Would you say?" Liam replied, directing the question to his bandmates.

"Yeah, I think that this album does have a different sound, as Liam said, I think there's a lot of more rocky kind of undertones..." Harry trailed off, not really knowing what else to say. He shot a look at Niall, hoping he would cut in.

"Exactly, this album shows a different side to us I think - there's also a couple of more ballad-y songs"

Susannah nodded, smiling wryly "The kind which you might like to sing for your girlfriends, perhaps?" The boys laughed, Harry with an edge of discomfort.

"Maybe," Liam, chuckled. "I don't know if she would find that nice or embarrassing." Everyone laughed again. Harry fought back a smile at the way Liam had interjected so that neither of them had to awkwardly attempt to. The interview finished quickly after the standard comment on Harry's 'player' image and a spontaneous a capella rendition of Selena Gomez's most recent single from Niall. Harry was glad it was over and thankful that they had the rest of the day off.

* * *

Harry sank down into his couch, sighing at how comfortable it was before retrieving something from the carpet in front of him.

So he had, um,  _liberated_ something from Niall's DVD collection; the entire first series of 'Watchtower - the new vigilante show that's sweeping the nation'. Harry held back a snort and turned the case over to see who, aside from Louis, was actually in the show.

Starring Taylor Swift as Chloe Sullivan and, oh - he'd slept with her. He'd kind of gone out with her actually. She was a lovely girl but he'd been going through a 'I think I'm actually gay as opposed to bi now' phase and so broke up with her after two months. Still she was nice. Wasn't she back with Twilight guy now? Harry wasn't exactly sure. Good for her if she was though (he was fit. Like, really fit).

Who else was in it? Eleanor Calder as Lois Lane. Was that who Louis had called 'El'? Harry didn't know if he should like her or not - his new 'boyfriend' hadn't actually specified between gay and bi. What if Eleanor was an ex of his - that would be awkward -? Harry sighed and looked back down at the cast list.

Cher Lloyd as Lana Lang - Harry didn't know she could act. Although thinking about it, he could vaguely recall a sixteen year old Cher telling the X Factor house that singing was actually her second love but that she doubted her first would go very far. Harry was oddly proud of her.

Emily Ostilly as Cat Grant and, yep, Harry has slept with her too.

Hannah Walker as Stargirl - he'd slept with her as well. Harry wondered, not for the first time, if he should start a Chuck Bass-esque black book (yes he watched Gossip Girl and yes, he mourned the loss of the fantastic show - what of it?). Probably not - that would be awkward if the press got wind of it.

Josh Devine as Jimmy Olsen - someone else that Harry's slept with.

Harry let his eyes skim down to the bottom of the list.

Louis Tomlinson as Superman/Clark Kent. Harry paused... Did that mean that he wore the Superman suit? The really tight Superman suit? As in, if he watched Watchtower, Harry would get to see him in that really tight suit? As in, Harry would get to see his arse in that really tight suit? Wow. He knew what the next week would be spent doing.

* * *

 

It wasn't until a few hours later that Harry remembered Superman's ridiculously blue eyes, he knew they'd seemed familiar.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think, I'm still not sure if I'm going to continue with this :)


	4. Chapter 4

It was the morning of the day Harry was going to 'meet' Louis for the first time. He wasn't nervous though, not at all. It would be entirely weird if he were nervous anyway - he's met Louis before and texted him a little bit and he probably would only be talking to him for a few minutes. So what if there'll be tons of people around, probably taking photos and inviting speculation about them? That was the point of the whole thing anyway. So, yeah, Harry was definitely not nervous. Not at all.

He would probably have to get dressed at some point, mind. Probably before he actually has to leave the house. Hell. Why had no one briefed him on what to wear? Harry groaned and made his way over to his walk-in wardrobe, before throwing the door open in probably a more aggressive manner than was necessary. Okay, maybe he was slightly nervous.

Half an hour later (and forty minutes before he was due to leave), Harry was no closer to deciding on an outfit. Why was this so difficult? He sighed and got out his phone.

"Yeah?" Came the almost instantaneous response.

"Liam," Harry said, dragging out the sound until it sounded as though it was a word of, at least, seven syllables. "What do I wear?"

His friend made a sympathetic noise which Harry was entirely grateful for - he knew Liam would understand. Especially as opposed to Niall who would proably just decide that his indecision meant that Niall should go instead and meet Louis.

"Mate, I don't really know. Just wear your usual kind of thing, I guess. It's not like people will be focusing all that much on what you're wearing..."

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied, albeit a little grumpily.

"Sorry, I have to go now - Ruth's in town and I haven't seen her in ages so..."

"Yeah, no that's fine mate. I'll speak to you later?"

"Mm. Tell me how it goes. Bye Harry," Liam said, before hanging up.

Harry sighed. Whatever. He really didn't have any more time to spend working out what to wear if he wanted to eat before he left. Pretending it was just any random, semi-formal event, Harry picked out some clothes to wear.

* * *

London traffic was absolutely horrendous all day on Fridays. Harry knew he was running ridiculously late already, even without factoring in the outrageous amount of time it would take for him to find somewhere to park. Bloody hell. He really did not need this at the moment.

Stopping the car at a red light, Harry took a deep breath and tried to sigh out his bad mood. It didn't really work. He made a mental note to ask if his yoga instructor had any tips for this kind of thing.

He turned on the radio and jolted slightly when he realised it was on some random sports station. Someone, probably Niall or Liam, must have changed it. The traffic light turned green and Harry fiddled with the dial with his left hand, trying to get it back to 95.8. There was a horn from behind him so Harry temporarily gave up to start drving again. A whole ten metres. Brilliant. At this rate, he wouldn't even get there to catch the very end of the show, let alone get a chance to 'meet' Louis beforehand.

Cutting the engine in the ridiculous gridlock, Harry finished setting the radio to its correct station. Having thought about it, it was probably Nick that had changed it originally - he hated it when his friends 'betrayed' him by 'listening to the competition'. It half made sense, but then it wasn't as though Harry was listening to  a different breakfast show so he didn't really see the problem.

"It's a matter of principle Harold," Grimmy had said, the one time Harry had made the mistake of questioning it. "You are standing on a slippery slope and before too long you could be listening to every station except Radio One!" Harry still didn't quite understand what was meant by that but had now long since learnt not to question Nick about such things.

The traffic started moving again. This time he managed to move at least 40 metres along the road. This probably shouldn't have been the highlight of his journey so far.

_Give me love, like her_

_'Cause lately I've been waking up alone_

_  
_Harry smiled as the song started and softly sang along to the next few lines as his car crawled towards the centre of London.

_"Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt..."_

_  
_He stopped singing after that, squinting in confusion at the flashing lights he could just dimly make out at the end of the road. It was only about 20 metres away but, through the pouring rain typical of English summers, it was difficult to determine what was going on.

_You know I'll fight my corner_

_Maybe tonight I'll call ya_

_After my blood turns into alcohol_

_  
_Harry tapped his nails on the steering wheel and listened to the way the swiping of the windscreen wipers blended in an oddly nice fashion with the sound of the music. It was somewhat soothing, he thought. Relaxing.

_"M-my m-my give me love_

_M-my m-my give me love..."_

_  
_Finally reaching the source of the lights, Harry discovered it to be an ambulance and a couple of police cars. There must have been an accident.

_'Cause lately I've been craving more_

_And it's been a while but I still feel the same_

_Maybe I should let you go_

_  
_Harry had driven past the point of the accident now and the road ahead was miraculously clear. This, coupled with Ed's soothing voice solved the earlier problem of Harry's bad mood. He helped out the dramatic climax of the song by hand-drumming enthustiastically on his steering wheel and singing along with great vigour.

* * *

**  
**Harry arrived at the EdExcel ( **A/N Probably not where they'd hold anythign for London FAshion Week but I once went to a fashion thing there so... I also once went on a science school trip there and met the Prime Minister, on the other hand but whatever haha** ) to the wonderful news that they had allocated a level of the underground car park specifically for people attending the DKNY catwalk show.

He suavely drove down and parked his car in an available spcae. He wasn't sure exactly what about this had made the action suave but it definitely had been. Definitely.

After checking his bandana in the rear-view mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt and retrieving his blazer from where he'd thrown it in the back seat, Harry went to lift and braced himself for the coming day's events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know why I made the ending so dramatic - sorry :)
> 
> Anyway, please please tell me what you think of this as I just randomly started writing it again after stopping in August so I doubt any of my original readers are still here.
> 
> Thank you :)


End file.
